The Limits of Practicality
by Madam Psycho Pants
Summary: Just when Kyoya thinks Haruhi is going to confess to him, she surprises him with a more practical suggestion.
1. Chapter 1

**The Limits of Practicality**

Chapter 1

Haruhi had been staring into her teacup for a long moment, the pink on her cheeks slowly spreading until it reached her ears. Finally, she dragged her eyes to his, because her frank manner wouldn't allow her anything else. She pulled a long, deep breath through her teeth, almost as if she were witnessing someone experience a particularly painful fall—or an excruciatingly humiliating faux pas.

"I need to ask you something, Kyoya-sempai." At last speaking, her voice was measured, even, betraying none of the qualms he could read so easily on her face.

He cocked an eyebrow at her and waited.

Rather, he continued to wait, he realized in that analytical part of his head that never turned off. They had been dancing around this confession for weeks. He had to admit, she had taken rather longer to reach this point than he had calculated. As always, her fortitude against his machinations impressed and ever-so-slightly irritated him.

She had not paid off her debt by the time she had graduated from Ouran. He had planned it just so, adding to her balance at every opportunity. Mostly the opportunities were provided by the twins' careless antics, as beyond occasional clumsiness (and frequent but harmless cluelessness), Haruhi was very careful to provide Kyoya with no excuses to increase the original eight-million-yen debt. He'd had to get a tiny bit creative in keeping her.

At first, of course, the chance to both have the power of revealing the accidental secret of her gender and the thought experiment of adding her as a variable to the known equation of the host club was enough to make him ensure her continued presence. Despite his wide net of influence, Kyoya had no previous ties to the commoner world beyond the connections of his family's staff, and using them in such a manner would have been terribly inelegant. But the Fujiokas did not depend on Ootoris for their livelihood, which made it a tad less unfair to keep them as cards in his hand. He hadn't taken advantage of those cards _too_ much, beyond occasionally collecting gossip from Ranka about some of the wealthy patrons of Ranka's workplace.

As for Haruhi herself, he actually hadn't taken too much advantage of his ability to blackmail her if he so chose. He did sometimes accompany her to expositions after he had realized the duplicity of some vendors claiming to sell high-value items. There had been no further incidents where he had felt the need to intervene on behalf of the Ootori Group's interests, however—most scams he'd encountered were of the inconsequential variety.

Nevertheless, as her time at Ouran passed, her debt grew. It had been easy to keep abreast of the happenings of the host club—Kaoru and Hikaru were not exactly reticent to share. It had been even simpler to make the occasional offhand comment to the first-year member who had taken over Kyoya's position as vice president after his own graduation. He had chosen his successor carefully, a young man who was not terribly observant, but who had a good memory for details and a shrewd sense of self-interest. The boy's family manufactured service vehicles. Service vehicles that included the Ootori Group's ambulance fleet and the fleet of their private police force. It had not been a subtle choice on Kyoya's part, but it was effective enough.

Now, Haruhi tripped on her own inhale and made a hiccupping sort of cough. She took a sip of tea and tried again.

"I've been spending a lot of time here," she began.

It was interesting, Kyoya noted, that her word choice was not _I've been spending a lot of time with you._ He had purchased her debt upon her graduation, and as a gift to her for maintaining her position as top student, had lowered her interest rate by a full percent. After all, paying off the debt was a matter of principle, but it wouldn't do to have a university student acting as the host club's dog. Acting as _his_ dog, however…

When he said nothing to help her ease into the conversation, Haruhi huffed in frustration, blowing a bit of hair out of her eyes. She really ought to get it cut—it was getting quite ragged again. The Hitachiins would be appalled. But she never had the time!

"Look, senpai. I've been here every break and most weekends for the last year and change. Even evenings sometimes. I do your shopping, laundry, cooking, and cleaning. Pretty much if I'm not studying, I'm here."

Kyoya sniffed delicately. "I do permit you to join me for meals and include your laundry with my own. I could require you to take care of your errands on your own time," he reminded.

Haruhi snorted inelegantly. "My roommate called me Hiroe last week. That's not even close!"

Was that mirth ticking Kyoya's mouth up at the corners? Rich bastard.

"The point is," she ground out, "I don't have a life outside of you."

His smirk widened marginally.

Haruhi hurried to add, "and my studies! It's not like I don't hear my classmates talking about their social lives. Their friends and… and… parties. Outings?"

"Outings, hmm?"

The flush that had long-since reached her ears began to seep down her neck.

"Shut up, Kyoya-senpai. You know what I mean," she grumbled.

Oh, this was fun. "Ah. So what you are saying is that I am the entirety of your social life?" He adjusted his glasses, knowing the carefully chosen lighting in his apartment would make them flash at her. "You make that sound like a bad thing."

"Well, no," she backtracked. Her eyebrows knitted together, alerting Kyoya to her regret, her concern that she may have… what? Hurt his feelings? "I may not appreciate being the reason you don't have to hire a maid, but that doesn't mean I dislike spending time with you."

_Ah, now we're getting somewhere._ "Then what is the issue, Haruhi? Are you envious of your friends who get to go to parties?"

"Not exactly." Now her blush had very nearly met the collar of her baggy crew-neck tee shirt. It painted the hollow of her throat a charming cherry blossom pink before sweeping below her collar, undoubtedly to her collarbones and perhaps…

"End of semester exams are coming up!" she exclaimed abruptly, her voice raising nearly to a shout.

_Huh?_ "So, you need more study time," Kyoya hazarded. "You know you are welcome to study here." _Why bring up her lack of social life if what she wanted was more time to study?_

"I already do! And that's not the issue anyway!"

At some point, Kyoya had lost control of the direction of this conversation, maybe even lost the thread of it.

"Explain it to me." He had turned his host voice on, the tone charming and cajoling. Haruhi knew damn well it was still a command, but couldn't the bastard see she was _trying?_ She took several deep breaths, counted slowly to ten. It didn't help her frustration at all, but it allowed her the time to call up her own host training, and a serenity appeared to wash over her features.

_"I can't focus!"_ she growled in spite of herself. Kyoya held her gaze silently, in that way of his that meant he would have been rolling his eyes if such a lowbrow affect weren't beneath him.

"Haruhi. I have no damn idea what you are talking about."

His churlish tone shattered her irritation. Was there anything in the world worse to Kyoya Ootori than not knowing exactly what was going on? With as many cards as he had stacked against her, her occasional ability to set him off-balance was her one ace up her sleeve, even if she only ever played it unintentionally.

"I study here or at my dorm. Or I am here, cleaning up after you. You really are a slob, you know. Most people wouldn't guess that."

_"Haruhi."_

She busied herself refreshing his tea, giving her hands something to do. Driving him crazy at having to wait was just an added benefit.

"I run your errands, or I check on Dad to make sure he hasn't shopped himself out of house and home and is eating something that doesn't come out of the microwave once in a while. It doesn't leave a lot of time for me to… to be a university student.

Kyoya wondered how going to and studying for her university classes and living in a university dormitory failed to make her a university student. His head was starting to hurt.

"My roommate has a boyfriend, you know."

He levelled his gaze to her. "Why on earth would I know that? And why would you think I should care?"

She shrugged. "You know everything else about the people around me." He had to concede it was mostly true. And he had looked into Honoka Ruiko when she had been assigned Haruhi's roommate at the beginning of her first year at university. The girl's mother managed a chain convenience store. The father was a low mid-level bureaucrat. Lower-middle class family of decent stock and no interest to Kyoya at all.

"So, Ruiko-san has a boyfriend. That's lovely for her. So what?"

Haruhi shrugged maddeningly. "They are cute. They seem happy when they are together. I learned…" She paused to swallow and winced. "I learned what a scrunchie on the doorknob means."

Understanding flooded Kyoya, along with relief that he finally knew what they were talking about again."

"You want a boyfriend, too," he stated, satisfied, only for her to scoff at him.

"Hardly. I told you I don't have time for that. _Someone_ keeps their pet dog on a rather short leash. And exams are coming up. I need to focus on my studies."

She met his eyes meaningfully. "I can't focus on my studies, Kyoya-senpai."

This conversation was not going at all the way Kyoya had planned. It was true he kept her here at his apartment, to the point that he considered one end of the sofa hers. He chose to place his own chair directly across from it, so if he happened to glance up from his own studies or business, she would be right in his line of sight. Sometimes she fell asleep over a case study, and her head would tip down and toward her left shoulder. Sometimes her mouth would fall open just a little bit.

In any case, she was meant to be confessing to him now. Cute, shy Haruhi was supposed to be telling him she liked him. Instead, he got this embarrassed but determined Haruhi, who was also familiar, but was not one to ask him to date her.

She continued, "I know you mean to come across as dark and clever rather than kind, but really you're just practical. I admire that about you, that you can prioritize so single-mindedly. I need to be practical right now, too. I don't have time for a boyfriend, but I don't want to miss out on what it's like to be a university student, either. And I need to focus on my studies, though that's been hard lately."

Again with the university student stuff. What the hell what she talking about?! He took a sip of tea to hide his annoyance.

Haruhi sucked in one final, steadying breath and got to the heart of it. "So, I was thinking, um, something like a boyfriend, but without the time-consuming part… And you can be practical about these things… Ugh, I don't know why this should be so hard to say to you. You of all people should understand. That is, thinking about my classmates and Ruiko-san having boyfriends makes me want some of those experiences myself. But it would need to be someone who would get that I can't date right now. It would need to stay, just, well, friendly. And I'm here all the time anyway."

She caught Kyoya taking a sip of tea, and it very nearly went up his nose. He dabbed it with a linen napkin.

"To be clear, Haruhi, you are asking if we can be friends with benefits, yes?"

A/N: Oh hi! Thank you for reading this far! I'm using this story as an exercise to practice writing sex scenes, so please let me know how those are once things get a little more lemony. Praise, criticism, and suggestions would all be enormously appreciated! This and chapter two both ended up being quite short, so I'm going to post chapter two immediately after this one.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Haruhi winced. "You don't have to make it sound so vulgar."

Kyoya nearly laughed. She was the one who wanted the "experiences" while keeping it "practical." To be fair, her description wasn't vulgar, but rather utilitarian. Of all the dark fantasies he'd entertained of being used by her, this wasn't quite what he'd pictured.

"Hmm. It's an intriguing proposition, I admit. We would need to discuss the particulars, of course. We wouldn't want any misunderstandings."

"I agree!" she said eagerly. "I really value your friendship, senpai. Most of all, I don't want to risk that."

The situation was absolutely ludicrous.

He said, "I suppose we should begin with what experiences you've had, and which you hope to have. Well?" Good god, could she get any redder?

"Uh, well, not a lot, I guess. That I've had, I mean. Not that I necessarily want a lot! That would depend on you of course."

"That is entirely unspecific, Haruhi. Am I to presume you are a virgin?"

Yes. Yes, she could get redder. She nodded.

"No need to be embarrassed," he stated. "As you said, we are friends. And we are likely to get to know each other much more intimately." He shouldn't goad her. He shouldn't goad her. Hadn't he always admired her frankness, her willingness to speak the truth no matter what? To hell with it. He would goad her.

"And what about non-penetrative sex?"

Her gaze shot to his, her eyes wide, her nostrils flared. She was close to panicking. Okay, maybe not quite so much goading. Just a little.

"I mean oral sex. Or heavy petting."

She reached up to scratch her ear. It allowed her to look away from him. "Um, there was that one time. At the, uh, beach…"

Shit. _Shit. That's_ what she considered her sexual experience? He'd barely touched her then, it was all invading her space, holding himself just above her so she could feel his body heat, making her aware he could touch her if he wanted to. And it was almost four years ago! Surely she hadn't gone that long without a single encounter. Kyoya wondered if she had any idea what she was really asking for now.

"Look, I'm not as naïve as that makes me sound." What she sounded right now was defensive and a bit petulant. "I have access to the internet. I know what sex is and how it works. I know it can, you know, feel good."

Kyoya was going to lose his mind. Trust Haruhi to do her research and believe her academic understanding equated to a practical one. That word again, practical. Suddenly, he hated it. But fine, if she wanted firsthand experience, he'd be the one to give it to her.

"But you _have_ been kissed before?" _Please don't say that one time she slipped and kissed a girl during host club._ Someone had to have noticed her that way since her first year of high school. Besides the other members of the host club, of course.

She fidgeted with her teacup, tracing her index finger along the delicate pattern of roses near the rim. "Um, besides that time Tamaki-senpai pushed me into Kanako?"

This was impossible.

"Yeah, besides that, only shortly after starting university."

Oh, thank god. There was something.

"It was after the first time I went back home to check on Dad, and I got back to the dorm pretty late. There were a bunch of people partying in the lounge, and one of the guys, I didn't realize it right away because I was thinking about a paper I needed to start, but he followed me up the stairs to my room."

Kyoya processed that for a beat. "He kissed you. Did you want him to?"

"Well, no, but it's not like it was a big deal. He'd had a bit too much to drink, but I told him I didn't appreciate his attitude and no one else would, either, and he backed off. I only had to push him a little bit before he realized he was being a jerk."

Kyoya removed his glasses to clean them with the monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket and smiled mildly. "I see. And what is this fellow's name?"

Haruhi swallowed. Oops. She'd shared too much. "It doesn't matter," she said quickly. "He transferred."

"As you say." Kyoya made a mental note to find out who had manhandled Haruhi against her will, who had robbed her of a kiss. Who had dared touch her without permission. Her permission, of course. He continued matter-of-factly. "So, I imagine we'll begin with kissing, and work up from there—at a pace you are comfortable with, naturally." He waited for her to nod. "Eventually, you will need to see a doctor regarding birth control. Sooner rather than later would be the best bet."

Her pink face suddenly drained of color. Horrified, she squeaked, "What about, you know, condoms?" She looked like she wanted to die.

"Naturally we'll use them. But relying on a single method of contraception isn't the safest way to go about it, and if you think a boyfriend will take up too much of your study time, imagine an infant."

Just like that, the color rushed back into her face and she nodded dumbly. Her eyes flew to the door, to the clock, and finally, to him. She was a little afraid of where her proposition would lead them. _Good._ He smiled with his voice, if not with his mouth. "I won't push you for anything tonight, Haruhi. You'll be ready when we begin in earnest." _As long as you don't expect me to wait too long._

She broke out into a smile and leaned over to take his now-empty cup into the kitchen along with the rest of the tea things, always the last thing she did before leaving.

"I'll take care of it," he said.

She shrugged, thanked him sincerely for not laughing at her, gathered her things, and departed. Only once the door snicked shut, the soft _thunk_ following telling him she'd locked the deadbolt behind her, did he very carefully set the cup down. A tiny web of cracks now scarred the rose that had been under his thumb, the only physical sign of his struggle to contain his anger. The crack only blemished the very outermost layer of paint and glaze; the porcelain beneath seemed unharmed. _The stupid, reckless boy at university._ Kyoya hoped the boy hadn't shown too much promise, as his life as he knew it was about to end. It was definitely the boy who spurred his anger, not the girl who had just gone, leaving a soft scent of soap in her wake.

Ah, damn. He was pretty sure his own life as he knew it was about to end, too. He did not slam his palm down onto the cup to shatter it completely.

On Wednesdays, Haruhi had a slightly lighter course load, which made it a good day to run any mid-week errands Kyoya-senpai needed and throw in a load of their laundry. It was usually oddly homey, folding their clothes while something delicious simmered on the stove. Kyoya generally chose to bring his work home with him that evening—whether it was business- or school-related—rather than taking advantage of his own university's rather magnificent library. He'd never really preferred to work in a library, but he told her it afforded him the opportunity to do some useful networking with his fellow students and rich people. Well, "rich people" was her term, not his. Normally, he sat in the large leather chair with his notebook or at the kitchen table with his textbooks and laptop. Sometimes, when it was cold, he deigned to join her at the kotatsu—not that his posh apartment got chilly enough to necessitate one, but it was cozy, and he liked his creature comforts.

Today was different. Oh, Haruhi still followed her usual routine, quickly folding the laundry before hurrying back to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner. And Kyoya, sitting at the table this time, did, as usual, move his study things into his bag to make room for dinner. This time however, she was—as she had been for the last several days—distracted by the fact that although they had discussed her romantic experience thus far, they had not spoken in any depth about what each of them was expecting from their arrangement. Just those brief comments about pacing and, ugh, contraception. And what about _his_ experience? Haruhi was certain his was significantly more far-reaching. He was almost certainly not a virgin. And, they probably ought to have discussed how exactly they planned on keeping any emotional complications in check without stultifying their easy camaraderie. And what would he _expect_ of her? And when? Or did she need to be the one to initiate?

As for Kyoya, well, in spite of his correct but relaxed posture and calm demeanor, something about him _loomed_. She couldn't imagine what he must be thinking of her right now. She was terrified she had already irreparably destroyed some aspect of their friendship. But at some point midway through dinner, their stilted conversation about his classes and hers turned easy. She laughed at the wry way he described a classmate making a fool of himself by insisting the professor was mistaken on a particular point, and he listened with interest and helpful observations to her ideas on where she should apply for an internship for summer break. Haruhi was relieved and buoyed by the sheer, boring normalcy of it. This was going to be okay. Even if they never brought it up again, it could be alright.

Once the dishes were washed and drying, she returned to the small room housing Kyoya's washer and dryer. He had a whole room, in an apartment, just for laundry. _Damn rich people._ She carefully placed her items in the duffel she'd brought them in—no need to cause unnecessary wrinkles—then grabbed Kyoya's stack of clothes. Turning to bring them to his bedroom, she ran into him. He grabbed her shoulders to steady her, but half the clothes she held tumbled to the floor.

"Kyoya-senpai, what are you doing here? This room is too narrow for two people." _And he never helped with laundry, ever_.

"I thought I'd help put things away."

_Well, that was a lie_, Haruhi thought, but instead said, "Senpai, you know your clothes just get messed up from the way you shove them in the drawers." He really was quite a slob.

"Mmm, I thought after last time, you might be uncomfortable going into my bedroom."

Another obvious lie. Anyway, she hadn't even considered being embarrassed about his room. It had been a long time since she'd even been rattled by handling his underwear—after all, it wasn't that different from doing her dad's laundry, even if Ryuji had a mix of masculine and feminine clothes. Either way, they were just clothes. It really wasn't that weird. What was weird was the way Kyoya hadn't stepped back or let go of her shoulders. As it was, she couldn't retrieve the fallen items to see if they needed rewashing or only refolding. He just looked at her, and there was _something_…

"You're being weird, senpai."

He laughed then, and it was an honest laugh with none of the acerbity he usually made sure to include. The sound made her own lips tip up in response.

"You really are something, Haruhi."

He tipped her chin up, pulling her a little toward him at the same time. She scowled a bit, reminded of practiced host club moves that she thought that had moved past using on each other. Then he traced her bottom lip with his thumb, and that wasn't a host club move at all.

"So oblivious," he murmured, but without malice.

_Yep_, she agreed silently. Oblivious. She had asked for this, after all. So why did she feel frozen and a little afraid? Not all afraid, though. There was something like the embarrassed curiosity she had felt when she'd unintentionally ignored the scrunchie-on-the-door warning her roommate had left, the simultaneous urge to flee and take a quick second look while she had the chance. Well, the laundry room was very narrow, and the door was behind Kyoya, so fleeing wasn't an option. Perhaps surprisingly, that didn't spur her fear—she knew he'd let he go if she asked—but rather the inclination to look.

Her gaze landed on his own mouth as his thumb continued whispering over hers. His lips had tightened slightly in concentration. He had sort of thin lips, especially given how wide his mouth was, but they looked soft. She became suddenly aware that her own were a bit chapped from the dry weather, and without thinking she sucked in a tiny bit of her lower lip to wet it. His mouth tightened further, and his nostrils flared. She didn't think she'd ever noticed a man's nostrils before, certainly had never considered they could heighten the curiosity she felt in her belly and behind her teeth. Is this what it felt like to want to kiss a man? They were friends, and he knew she didn't have the experience to know. She could just ask him.

"Kyoya-senp—" The word crashed to a halt when his face hurtled toward hers. He stopped abruptly, just a millimeter before her mouth. Instead, he pressed his forehead to her own and sucked in a ragged breath.

"I won't apologize if I scared you. But you've had two kisses you didn't want, and damnit, Haruhi, I'm going to need to know you do want this one."

It was so natural to her to want to soothe the worry and regret she knew he probably wasn't even aware of, so easy to tilt her face up just a little more and press her lips chastely to his. It was all he could to do limit himself to pulling her hard to him with the hand still on her shoulder, crushing his laundry between them and allowing the other hand to dive into her messy hair and just stay there. _Don't pull her head back. Don't scare her. Don't scare her away._ He wanted to ravage her mouth, drag his own down her neck to that damnable clavicle peeking out of her shirt, squeeze her delicate shoulder to remind himself and impress upon her that he was so much larger and stronger, and she was his to do with as he pleased. But the hand on her shoulder remained light after the initial pull, the hand in her hair gentle, if firm, and his lips hadn't moved an iota since she had pressed her own to them. Christ, was it even really a kiss when they just had their mouths pressed motionlessly together? This should be awkward or embarrassing, not sexy as hell.

Haruhi's eyes bored into his own, and finally, she made a discontented little mew. She didn't know what it was she should do next; she was wordlessly asking him to take over. But if he did that now, feeling her warmth up close, seeing her speechless with her pupils blown wide…

He yanked himself away from her, grabbing the few clothes she still held before she dropped them too. "I'll just—I'll just put these in the bedroom so you can grab the rest." And Kyoya Ootori fled.

Haruhi had refolded the dropped laundry but hadn't dared put them away. He might still have been in his bedroom. It wasn't until she'd gotten back to her dorm that she had really considered how the evening had gone. So that's what kissing was like. _Huh._

She wondered why he had chosen that moment, why he had chosen the laundry room, of all places. It didn't exactly seem like the most suitable place for a seduction. It wasn't as if there was room to… Unless he lifted her up onto the…

Nope, nope, nope. It was too much. Besides, she was positive that hadn't been what Kyoya-senpai had had in mind. Knowing him, it was more likely that he figured she would use his laundry as a shield, her unfinished chore as a way not to dive in too deep. He hadn't chosen the laundry room because she couldn't get away, but rather because she _could_. And then she hadn't tried to get away at all. She chuckled a little as she realized she must have scared him out of his wits. Poor Kyoya-senpai.

When he finally emerged from the market reports, he had a couple of texts from Haruhi. He knew she had felt how hard he'd had to work to keep himself in check, though she probably wouldn't have guessed just how much he'd been tempted to bend her over the washer. He wondered coolly if he'd succeeded in frightening her away. It would serve her right, asking for such a thing from one such as him.

"About tonight…" was all the first text read. Interesting. Maybe he truly had scared her away after all. He clicked open the second message. "I'm worried I didn't refold your laundry well. And if you did put those clothes you took away… Do you even know how to use an iron, Kyoya-senpai?"

The little minx was laughing at him!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Kyoya was determined to be better prepared next time. He had to keep reminding himself that while Haruhi may have been woefully inexperienced and naïve, she was not some wilting flower that would fall over at the first sign of trouble. And by this point, she had to know he was trouble. So he would approach this with a level head and try to avoid being either too aggressive or over-cautious. Cool, Kyoya, just stay cool.

Like hell. Since the laundry room, he hadn't approached her that way. To his mild irritation, she hadn't initiated a similar encounter, either. But she had started to pepper their normal time together with _touching_, and that was much, much worse. She would lay a hand on his shoulder as she set a dish in front of him. She'd tap his hand or knee to get his attention if she had a question. When they were both studying, she'd reach across the table and brush a bit of hair out of his eyes. Once she'd even companionably bumped his thigh with her hip while they were standing next to each other waiting for his driver. It was all he could do not to swoop his arm around her waist, swing her around to face him, and march her backwards until she was pinned against the wall of the shallow alcove that protected the door of his apartment building from the rain. He would have liked to hold her against that wall with one hand on her shoulder, his thumb extended across her throat in a threat or maybe a promise, grasp the offending hip with his other hand and lift to create the space for him to show her just what she was doing to him with all her goddamn casual touching.

Instead he had stood next to her with his hands to himself like the perfect gentleman he was trained to, well, act if not be. At the rate he'd started grinding his teeth, he was going to need dentures by 30.

And Haruhi seemed so fucking _happy_ about everything. He could have gleefully killed her, he thought as he glared daggers at her across the table. She was thoughtlessly tapping the eraser of her mechanical pencil against her mouth, but she stopped when she noticed him looking at her. He smiled his easy host smile and she grinned. She kicked him lightly under the table.

"What's got you so peeved?" she asked innocently.

"I'm smiling," he gritted out pleasantly.

"Ha! Like I can't tell when you're faking it."

"Well, what's got you so upbeat lately?"

She shrugged. He knew everything she had of interest to tell. She had done well on her first end-of-term exam, and she had two interviews coming up in the next few weeks for internships. The only thing she hadn't shared was which companies were pursuing her as an intern, since she was concerned Kyoya would interfere. Positively, sure, but she wanted to know she'd done this on her own.

Kyoya dropped his fake smile, his arm raising to press thumb and middle finger on either side of the back of his neck in an attempt to ease the tension there. It helped a little, and he closed his eyes in relief. Honestly, what was she so chipper about? Usually when she was in the middle of exams and had something promising she was working toward like this internship, she knuckled down and got extra serious. He wasn't certain he didn't resent this smiley Haruhi.

Suddenly, warm fingers wrapped around his wrist, moving him out of the way so Haruhi could rub his neck and shoulders properly. He held himself perfectly still.

"Haruhi, what are you doing?" He was careful to keep his tone mild, never mind if she knew it was fake. Even fake was better than the truth it hid.

"Relax, senpai. I can tell how tense you are. You spend so much time reading; it's got to be tough on your neck."

Completely ignoring that she read just as much, he noted wryly.

"No, don't clench your jaw again, that just tightens everything back up." She poked his cheek playfully. He hissed out a breath, put a lid on his unjust anger with her, and forced his muscles to loosen. "Better," she approved, moving the cheek-poking hand back to his neck to work in tandem with the other. Her hands were small but strong, and the work they did on his aching muscles seemed like magic. She eased her way down his trapezius from the point at the base of his skull, out to his shoulders, and then angling down to the middle of his back. That complete, she glided her fingers back up his spine to the side of his neck to soothe his levator scapulae. He hadn't realized just how much those had been bothering him until they started to loosen.

"Where did you learn this?" he mumbled, relaxed almost to sleep.

"Mmm. Sometimes Dad has to wear these ridiculously huge headpieces at the club."

Kyoya chuckled. "Thank god for Ranka and drag clubs."

Haruhi patted his shoulders. "I think that's about all I've got. My fingers might fall off." He grabbed her hand from his shoulder before she could remove it—and herself—from him and pulled her into his lap. After a brief "oof" of surprise, she settled in, tucking her head under his chin. She could feel his breath in her hair, and it tickled in a nice sort of way. He was warmer than she expected, and something in her chest felt suddenly, comfortably, bigger.

They sat that way for a long while, his heartbeat and breathing so slow and even that she thought he had fallen asleep. Then he nuzzled his nose down closer to her ear, murmuring, "You haven't kissed me again, Haruhi."

She smiled, more than a little sleepy herself. "I kissed you last time. It's your turn." She felt his lips press softly to her temple and hummed in response. "That doesn't count, you know."

"Smug," he grumbled with good humor.

Haruhi heaved a sigh and reluctantly stood. "It's really late. I should get home, and you should get some sleep."

He pulled her back down. "Just a little longer. You can stay. Use the futon I got for when Tamaki invades."

She rolled her eyes at his choice of words but relaxed back into him. "In the living room? I can't sleep in your room like Tamaki-senpai does."

He chuckled. "Well, we wouldn't want to be improper now, would we?"

She had never woken in Kyoya-senpai's apartment before, not if you excluded both of them falling asleep during their studies and waking in the middle of the night before she hurried back to her dorm—or more likely, was driven there at Kyoya's insistence because of the hour. She always felt terribly guilty, dragging his driver, Tachibana, out of his own bed at such an hour, but she knew Kyoya worried about her walking home alone so late.

Still, this was the first time she had woken there in the morning. She never bought breakfast groceries, which made her wonder if he either ate out or ordered in every morning. She dug through the kitchen cupboards for coffee and was amused to see a somewhat dusty container of instant coffee. It was mostly full. Clearly he didn't partake in much of it himself; he probably only kept it around for when Tamaki-Senpai visited from Boston. It might be stale, but it would have to do. She busied herself heating water and finding some travel mugs they could take with them to school. Especially for Kyoya—she'd heard the other hosts describe what he was like when he first woke up, and she figured he wasn't likely the type to linger over a cup of coffee and listen to the news on the radio before leaving for the day.

Speaking of which, she needed to get moving if she was going to get back to her dorm with enough time to clean up for class. She made do with a bit of Kyoya's toothpaste on her finger for now—she'd brush her teeth properly at her dorm, but she didn't want to go out with stale morning breath. She'd just finished rinsing her mouth when Kyoya stomped in.

Ah. So he was the sort to wear just his underwear to bed. Laundering his boxer briefs had always been mostly a non-issue for her, but seeing him in them turned out to be something else entirely. It seemed she couldn't move.

This posed no problem at all for Kyoya, who simply shoved her out of the bathroom and closed the door in her now-burning face. Gathering the tattered remains of her dignity around herself, she grabbed the coffee she'd prepared for him from the kitchen and waited by the bathroom door so she could hand it to him the moment he came out. Clearly he needed it.

She supposed she shouldn't have expected thanks. He grunted at her instead as he nearly ripped the mug out of her hands and disappeared back into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Haruhi smiled a little at his unrepentant grouchiness. For a guy who prided himself on being in full control of his emotions…

She made quick work of packing her school bag and tidying her hair as much as possible with Kyoya's limited supplies. That did give her enough time to linger just a few moments with her own coffee—long enough to begin worrying that she didn't hear any movement from his room. She bet he'd fallen asleep again. At this rate, he'd be late for class.

Hoping he wasn't _too_ angry in the morning, she sidled up to his door, debating her best course of action for only a moment before screwing up her courage and knocking.

"Senpai? Are you awake in there senpai? I think you probably need to get moving if you are going to make it to class on time. I sure hope so, because I've got to leave to catch the bus."

There was a sound. Did he just—did he just _roar_ at her? Oh for goodness sake, that didn't sound very much like an alert Kyoya-senpai at all. She knocked again.

"Uh, hello in there? I think you're probably not awake, so I'm coming in. Please don't be naked, and please don't eat me, okay?"

Wincing, she eased the door open. No idea why she was trying to do it quietly when he needed to be awake—other than her own cowardice, of course. But it turned out she had nothing to worry about. Kyoya was indeed back in bed, and seemed to be in a deep sleep, with his coffee cup steaming away on the bedside table beside him. Wasn't he too old for this kind of behavior?

A little irritated now, Haruhi crossed the room quickly and shook his shoulder. "Kyoya-senpai! You need to get up. You're going to be late! Mmmf!"

Before she knew it, he had her pinned under him on the bed. He snuggled—_snuggled_—into her with a contented sound and was back asleep in an instant.

She slapped his shoulder and shouted. "Senpai! I can't breathe!"

He growled. "Good. Don't need to breathe to be quiet. Shhhhh." He patted her head none-too-gently.

Okay, being noisy didn't work. Maybe she could make him want to try to listen to her? She turned her head toward him, putting her mouth right by his ear.

"Kyoya-senpai." She just barely whispered it this time. "Kyoya, we need to go."

He moaned. Not the moan of the grumpy-to-wake-up, either. But one eye popped open, so, progress? "Haruhi? Why are you…? Unh. Never mind. Hi." And he kissed her.

This was not the innocent press of lips they'd shared earlier. Nor was it the sloppy push of inebriated lips and tongue that she had experienced outside her dorm room. It wasn't even the forceful demand she had expected from Kyoya-senpai, knowing that his cool exterior probably hid some pretty intense passion. Rather it was lazy, and it was sweet, and it was very entitled. He did this thing where he opened his mouth a little, pressed his upper lip to hers, and nodded upward, and she found her own upper jaw following, leaving her lower jaw hanging slightly open. How had he done that?! But she had no to time to think about it, or to think about anything, because he was kissing her like she had never even imagined. He was gentle, and though his tongue stayed inside his own mouth, she could taste his breath, a mix of morning breath and coffee, and it should have been unpleasant, but it was Kyoya, and how could she care when his mouth was drinking from hers, worshipping it like she was divine and he was her most devout servant? She felt divine.

He had lifted some of his weight off of her onto one elbow, freeing his other hand to cup her face. His fingers feathered over her temple and cheekbone in a way that made her eyes flutter shut. Those fingers then drifted lazily down her jaw, over her neck, and lingered at her collarbone, sweeping from the hollow of her throat to her shoulder and back again, over and over until it was all she could do to keep breathing. Another pleased sound escaped him at her panting. Kyoya's mood changed suddenly, and there was the possession she had expected, and oh, that was nice too. Instead of worshipping her mouth, he made demands of it, requiring her to respond. He nipped her lower lip and left her, pulling away just enough that she had no choice but to follow him, rising to wordlessly plead for him to continue, and he did. At the same time, he dragged his hand from her collarbone to the side of her breast, fingers just hard enough to cause little shocks to follow in their wake. And he _shifted_, his hips gently pushing to one side then the other, and now, now he could settle just there…

She gasped beneath him, and Kyoya really heard it, heard _her_. He felt her hips rise to press against him, but also the way she used her feet to push her body just a tiny bit toward the headboard, away from him. She was excited, but she was scared, too.

"Haruhi." He wasn't sure if it was an apology or a prayer or just awe of her, her responsiveness, how even her body was honest. With effort, he stilled his hips, gentled his hand and brought it back to her face. He squinted his eyes shut and took great, heaving breaths as he wrestled to regain control of himself. Then the shame snaked in. He rolled off her, throwing the arm that had been pawing at her over his eyes in disgust.

He tried again to speak. "I didn't give you the chance to- I just grabbed you and—" Christ, what could he even say? He had pretty much mauled her in his sleep, very nearly finishing what he'd threatened to start way back on that trip to the beach. What good would an apology even do at this point? "Are you okay?" he finished lamely.

Haruhi took a moment to answer as she seemed to analyze how she felt. "A bit twitchy, to be honest."

Oh god, he was a pig.

"But, Kyoya-senpai?" She waited for him to look at her, then dragged his arm off his face. "About the kissing? I think…"

_That we ought to call it quits._ He prepared himself to be calm, reasonable, fair. To call Tachibana to take her home. To acknowledge she wouldn't be coming back.

"I think _that_ counts. Now, get up! We are going to be so late!" She sat up and slapped his chest lightly. "UP!" And she trotted away.

What? Was that really… okay? Was she really okay? Kyoya sat up, rubbing his face in bewilderment. How…? She poked her head back in and seeing he still wasn't out of bed, threw his school bag at his face.

Okay then.

And… Had she called him just Kyoya?


	4. Chapter 4

It had not been Haruhi's best day ever. Ruiko-san had still been in their room when Haruhi had come in, and she'd taken one look at the clothes Haruhi had left in yesterday and her particularly disheveled hair and dazed look and had said, "Whoa. Am I witnessing a walk of shame?

Haruhi's cheeks burned, but she answered, "Oh no. Got stuck at work so late it made more sense to spend the night there. But I overslept.

"You never oversleep," Ruiko-san murmured. And didn't she work as something like a housekeeper for a single guy? Suspicious, but she let it slide. She didn't really know her short-haired roommate all that well, despite this being their second year of rooming together, but she knew the girl worked impossibly hard. Everyone deserved to let loose once in a while.

Then, though she had hurried as much as possible, Haruhi still had to slink in to her first class late. It was so out of character for her that the professor had asked after class if everything was okay. Since no convenient sinkhole opened up for her to fall into, she had to settle for nodding sheepishly and repeating her excuse about oversleeping.

"Okay, if you're sure. But I hope you let me know if anything is bothering you that I can help with." The professor smiled at her kindly, but obviously dubious. She continued, "I've been teaching here a long time, and I know a student with great potential when I see one. Don't let that slip away." Haruhi's face burned, and she couldn't escape fast enough.

It was a Tuesday and she usually didn't come that day, so Kyoya was surprised when she stomped in and glared at him like he was the devil. Honestly, he was surprised it had taken her this long to realize that was pretty much the case.

She beelined for him, pointing and silent until her finger jabbed into his chest. "Everyone noticed I was weird today, and it's all your fault."

Kyoya cocked an eyebrow and slowly removed the offending finger from his person. "Most people who know you would argue you're a bit odd every day, Haruhi. Surely it's not fair to blame me for the faults of your personality."

"I could kill you."

"That would likely have a negative impact on your plans to become a lawyer."

She huffed and rolled her eyes, and she left to heat up yesterday's leftovers for them, pausing to put hang Kyoya's jacket and bag on the hooks by the door. Honestly, how did he think it was easier to bring them into the living room and toss them onto the coffee table than just hang them up right when he walked in? Stupid Kyoya.

He stared at her, not even pretending to be engrossed in his notebook like he usually did. It was terribly amusing to see her so annoyed, even while she went about preparing their dinner. She still took her time to consider what spices to add and how much to liven up the leftovers, and she paused holding the soy sauce with one finger on her lips while she debated whether to add a bit. She did. When the contents of the pan began to sizzle and emit a savory smell that made Kyoya's mouth water, she efficiently cleaned up the things she had used to prep the meal so far. That done, she whooshed out a great sigh, leaned both hands onto the counter, and let her head fall forward.

"Sorry I snapped at you, senpai. I had a bad day, but it wasn't your fault. I shouldn't have blamed you."

He was behind her then, placing his own hands, so much larger, on hers. "It was my fault, a little bit," he rumbled into her neck where he had buried his nose in her hair. "I believe I put you off balance this morning." She felt him smile against her skin. "You put me a little off balance as well."

He whispered his lips across the sensitive spot behind her ear, not even a touch so much as the barest hint of his body heat and moist breath. "I found myself quite distracted, Haruhi. I had to ask for a classmate's notes because I couldn't pay attention." There was warning in his voice now, but if the light bite to the upper tip of her ear was meant to be a punishment, Kyoya had for once failed exceptionally. He smiled again at the hissing breath she dragged in, the way she leaned her head a little to give him better access. As her hair fell forward, he noticed she had a tiny mole, more of a freckle, really, midway between her ear and spine, just peeking out of her hairline, and he couldn't resist tasting it. What other little secrets was she hiding? He groaned at the thought and kissed his way down her elegant neck. He moved slowly, often doubling back to ensure he relished every inch. When he finally reached the junction of neck and shoulder, he felt her go limp, and he just couldn't stop himself. He bit her there, hard.

"Ah!" There was pain in her cry, but her body arched into him. He soothed the spot with a much gentler kiss and wondered if there would be a bruise. He was a bastard for it, but he hoped so. He took a deep breath, tightened his hands on hers, and ran them up to her shoulders, squeezing there too before forcing himself to step back. She looked at him blankly over her shoulder.

"The food is burning," he pointed out.

Immediately, her full attention was on saving their meal. She was relieved to note it was only just starting to overheat; she wouldn't have to throw any of it out, though it might be a bit dry. She her the clink of dishes being moved and turned to see Kyoya setting the table. Well, that was new. Of course he knew which utensils to use for which courses, but it had never occurred to her that he would know where to place them. Not that it was hard when all they needed were plates and chopsticks. Still, she noted he placed the chopsticks very precisely next to the dishes, and she'd have bet anything that if she had googled it, they would have been exactly the proper distance from the bowls. It was kind of a useless thing to know, really. Then again, knowing the fastest way to get to the supermarket so she could make it in time to catch a flash sale probably would have seemed stupid to him, given that he reimbursed her for groceries. It did save quite a bit of her food money, being able to eat with him so often. At first, she'd tried to insist on paying for her share of the food they shared, but he'd said that he'd just be eating out if she didn't cook, so she was still saving him money in the long run. But she rather suspected he just liked helping her out.

She didn't bother to transfer their dinner from the pan to a serving platter; no point in making extra dirty dishes. And Kyoya didn't seem to mind, as long as it was just the two of them. There was only one time she'd been here that he'd had a guest, his sister Fuyumi. Haruhi had made and served dinner but had slipped out while they were eating so as not to disturb them. She'd liked seeing him with his sister. He was relaxed and took her ribbing good-naturedly. There was a lack of pretense between them that had made her happy. The only other guest she'd seen at the apartment was Tamaki-senpai, but Kyoya didn't like her doing chores there when Senpai was around. The two rarely spent much time there on those visits anyway, spending most evenings with whichever host club members were available. (The Hitachiins always made themselves available, but Mori-senpai and Hani-senpai took their responsibilities more seriously. The twins were too rowdy for Kyoya-senpai's luxurious, but efficiently small apartment.) It was kind of funny that he didn't like Senpai to see her working around his apartment. It wasn't a secret that he had purchased her debt and how she was paying it off.

Sitting down to eat, Kyoya said something that made her think he was reading her mind. And here she was still struggling to contain the heat she still felt from his ministrations to her neck.

"Did you hear Tamaki is coming this weekend? He has no class on Monday and Tuesday, so it will just be a short visit."

No kidding. She'd never been to America, but she knew the flight had to be very long. She couldn't believe Tamaki-senpai had the money to waste on just a long weekend.

"He'll be staying here with you again?"

Kyoya nodded. It seemed Tamaki had finally come to the realization that his grandmother would never accept him and couldn't be bothered to be civil. It caused fewer problems if Tamaki stayed with Kyoya and just met his father somewhere for dinner rather than staying at either of the family's local mansions. With the exception of one ill-fated "sleepover" at the twins' home, this had been the standard since Tamaki had gone to Boston.

"And he'll be flying in sometime on Saturday?"

"In the evening," Kyoya confirmed.

"Okay. I'll drop by Friday with a bunch of 'commoner' snacks then. And more instant coffee—what you have isn't really fresh anymore."

"I see no reason you shouldn't come Saturday afternoon as you usually do." Kyoya always set his chopsticks down entirely when speaking to her, even for quick comments. "You generally mop the floors then, and I'd prefer it not be put off until after the weekend. And I'll have more laundry that will need washing. Tamaki will provide enough disruption to my routine as it is." He was pleased to see her cheeks pinken a little at the mention of laundry.

"If you say so. I'll probably have to leave after dinner, though. I never manage to get much studying done when Senpai is around."

Kyoya flashed a threatening smile. "_Senpai_ will behave."

Huh. What was with the emphasis on "Senpai?" Haruhi always called Tamaki-senpai that, just like Kaoru and Hikaru called him Tono. And it wasn't like she wasn't respectful to Kyoya-senpai, too. Maybe he thought that now that they were all in college, she should start using more casual honorifics.

"Kyoya-senpai. Would you prefer me to call you Kyoya-kun? Or, uh… Kyo-kun?" She winced a little saying both. They just felt wrong.

"Dear god, no. Where did you get such an outlandish idea?"

"Oh, okay. Never mind. That's good then."

He was staring at her. She knew he often looked at her when he thought she wasn't looking, but he was usually more subtle than this.

"Is there something you need?" she asked without looking up from her textbook.

"You're tapping your pencil."

She stopped. "Oh, sorry, it's a habit. I used to tap it on the table or a book, but the noise could get annoying. I didn't realize you could still hear it this way."

"That is… not the problem." His eyes hadn't stopped glaring at the offending writing instrument, where she'd paused it—against her mouth.

"Oh."

"Oh, indeed."

How was it she could feel so warm when he was only looking at her? She felt like a character in a poorly-written ecchi manga. This was not her being practical and focusing on her studies.

"Are you done?" he asked abruptly.

"Tapping? Yes. I said I was sorry."

"Studying," he corrected.

She leaned back a little to consider her progress. "I should probably at least finish reading this section; there's less than a page left."

He stood, closing his laptop. "Close enough. Come along, Haruhi." She followed him to the living room, where, instead of settling in his usual chair, he sat at the end of the couch. She perched beside him on her side, wondering suddenly when she'd started thinking of it as hers. The couch was his obviously, like everything else here. Was he going to kiss her again? This morning was exciting, but it was really intense, and it had made her both late in the morning and distracted all day. That wasn't really the sort of thing she could allow in the middle of exams.

"I'd like you to clarify something," he said. "This morning, when I asked how you were, you told me you were twitchy. What, precisely, did you mean by that?"

"Huh?" After the way he'd kissed her neck in the kitchen, she'd thought he'd set aside his concern about their actions that morning.

"Did my actions frighten you?"

Ugh, for such a manipulative guy, he sure didn't allow for other people's secrets. She was pretty sure other couples their age didn't need to hash out every last detail like this. Not that they were a couple. She felt her face flush.

"Uh, not exactly?"

His glasses flashed at her. She was positive he'd had the trendy pendant lights hung at the exact heights to do it on purpose, since he could get it to happen whether he was standing or sitting. She also knew he meant it to be intimidating. She wasn't intimidated in the slightest, but she could see he wasn't going to let her off the hook.

She continued, "I guess it was more like… what was happening inside me. I didn't expect it to take me over like that. Yeah, I suppose it was, but only a little scary. But it wasn't because of you!" she rushed to add.

Oh, it wasn't because of him, hmm? He rather thought the way she'd felt had _something_ to do with him.

"I'd like to try it again, if you don't mind, senpai. Not in your bedroom, of course. But I think maybe if I knew to expect it—"

"Very well, Haruhi. I'll follow your lead then, shall I?"

"_Yeah right,_ she thought. _Like he was even capable of giving up the lead._ But she saw that he was holding himself still, the slight tension of his fingers where he gripped his knee the only signal that it wasn't effortless. He was sort of cute like this.

She leaned in to kiss him, but the couch was big, and she was farther from him than she'd realized. She had to scoot a little closer before she could try again.

Haruhi still wasn't sure how to kiss rather than just be kissed, but the memory of the laundry room, of his thumb on her lip popped into her mind, and she tried to simulate it using her lips instead. He let out a soft sigh, which she took as a sign she'd done something right. She moved to his upper lip, taking it softly between her own. It prompted him pull her lower lip a little, the tip of his tongue sliding across it, and she thought she rather liked that. Without thinking, she nipped at him.

Kyoya huffed out a single bark of frustrated laughter. "You aren't exactly making it easy to go slow, you know."

"Oh, shush. I'm figuring this out as I go, you know. Can't you just hold still and think of account statements or something?"

"That is rather unlikely," he deadpanned. With that, he slid his fingers back into her fine hair and pulled her back in. _Pacing, pacing,_ he chanted silently. They needed to go at hers.

This time, she also lifted her hand to his head, holding him close, and the other rose under his arm to cling to the back of his shoulder. She'd twisted a bit to face him and get a little closer. The position pushed her breast into his chest, and he forced himself to let it stay there, unexplored by his fingers. He knew now, after this morning, that it would be high and firm, the slight curve up and away from her ribs something he was sure could only be appreciated by touch. He broke away to catch his breath. She occupied herself kissing along his jawline toward his ear. When she'd nearly reached it, she reversed directions, dragging her teeth across his skin. _Christ_.

He used his hand in her hair to pull her back before he lost his mind completely. "Haruhi," he rasped. "I'd like to touch you now. If there is anything you don't like, you can let me know. Is that okay?" She licked her lips as she nodded, and he nearly died. "And you can touch me if you like, too. Whatever you want."

Though he'd gotten her permission, he didn't move his hands just yet, simply kissed her again, focusing on her reactions, looking for her unconscious signals that she wanted him to continue. After a time, she skimmed her hand from his hair to his arm, fingers tentative as she learned its landscape. He began tracing her spine, soothing and exhilarating her all at once. When his hand drifted over her shoulder blade, she shivered and shifted even closer, making him lean back against the arm of the couch.

Haruhi Fujioka was leaning over him as she kissed him. Haruhi was pressing herself into him, bringing her knee up next to his hip to hold herself above him. It was a bit awkward with both his legs to the side, half-seated and half-reclining as he was. He didn't dare move, except to slide his free hand to her side. She was so small. His thumb rested on the forward-most point of her illium, and his fingers fell just short of her backbone. It was a lovely area to touch, a fascinating topography of delicate bone, firm muscle, and soft flesh. God, her skin was soft. He hadn't really meant to place his hand above the waistband of her pants and under her shirt, but as always, her shirt was baggy and so the bottom hem had gapped away from her body when she had moved above him. That baggy shirt was Kyoya's greatest blessing in that moment.

"Kyoya-senpai. You can't possibly be comfortable like that." If anyone else had said it, it would have sounded suggestive, not unlike the "why don't I put on something more comfortable" cliché. But her voice was matter-of-fact. "Do you need to move? Do I need to move?" She started to sit up, so Kyoya took advantage of his hold on her side to yank her back down to him.

"I'll manage," he growled, and he did somehow shift his legs onto the sofa without displacing her.

"Better?" she asked, meaning his legs.

"Better," he agreed, meaning the way she now straddled his hips, even if she was hovering a few inches above him. _Her pace_, he reminded himself again.

Their momentary pause had seemed to trigger some self-consciousness for her; her brows had knit together and she was looking away. He trailed his hand upward, thumb stopping short of the underside of her breast, and then swept down across her belly. She shuddered and scrunched her face in complaint.

"That tickles!"

"What about here?" His hand now rested higher, fingers on the bottom of her sternum. She swallowed.

"That's okay."

Still upward his fingers crept, traversing the space between her breasts. "And here?" She jerked a nod.

"Good, good," Kyoya muttered, not paying much attention anymore to what they were talking about. His fingers danced along her clavicle, and watching her closely, inched downward. He ached with the urge to take but restricted himself to a slowness that made her close her eyes and sigh. And then he was there, and she was just barely enough to fill the cup of his palm. He imagined that beneath the light lining of her bra, her nipple had tightened. He was dying to find out its shape and color, and her expression was still so dreamy and relaxed. Kyoya was absolutely delighted with himself. He contented himself there for several long moments, learning the way she got goosebumps when he ghosted down the outer curve and the way she strained ever-so-slightly toward him when he scraped over the crest of her. Pleased with his own studies, he hoped she was ready for a new chapter—not that he meant to skip to the last page.

"I wouldn't mind a bit more room to move, Haruhi. Would you mind if we switched places?"

She had a moment's panic as she wondered where their limbs would go if they tried to move, but he solved the problem by simply guiding her back toward the other end of the sofa. Unlike that morning, when he'd snuggled sweetly into her—and nearly crushed her lungs at the same time—now he simply held himself over her. The way his eyes devoured her belied his gentleness, and somehow, that was sweet, too. She knew he'd have liked to go about this much faster, but he held himself back for her comfort. Trusting him completely, she watched him back, waiting to see where he would take her next.

His hands were back at her waistband, this time inching up her shirt, and she had a moment to be glad she'd had the foresight to start wearing prettier underthings when they'd come to their arrangement. He hummed his approval upon revealing her pale pink bra. The band and straps were printed with darker roses, and she was curious to know if he, too, thought it looked a bit like the pattern on his tea set. If it occurred to him she'd thought of him when purchasing the garment. She'd had it quite a long time.

Easing her in as he'd been trying to do all evening, he began kissing her rather primly at the top of her bra strap. He ambled along the path it created, angling in when it transitioned to cup, and punctuating soft lips with nibbles and small tastes. Fingers eased first one, then the other strap off her shoulders, and they gently caged her at her elbows. An immediate urge to reach beyond the bonds surged in her. She reached for him, gripping his shoulder with one hand and the other threading through his hair, knocking the earpiece of his glasses slightly askew on its way. He paused to yank his glasses off and fling them away.

Haruhi grimaced as they clattered against something hard. "You glasses," she admonished. "You should be more careful, senpai."

"Fuck the glasses." Couldn't she see all his self-discipline was focused on her? Dipping fingers into the cup of her bra, he applied teeth almost roughly to the flesh he'd exposed, just to remind her. The fingers that had been butterflying up and down her sides, fingernails scraping if her goosebumps started to fade, came up now to tug more, their goal to unveil her completely. Her pebbled nipples were larger than he'd expected, and they demanded his attention. One finger came to rest on one with reverence. Who the hell had performed the miracle of designing a bra with roses the exact color and size of them?

He bent his head as if to pray, and the heat of his mouth exploded into her like a bomb. Unthinking, her fingers tightened almost painfully in his hair, whipping him on to egg her still higher.

"Fuck the glasses," she agreed breathlessly. His responding chuckle vibrated into her, and she couldn't help the small sound that escaped her. The vocalization tore at something within him. Before he'd realized it, he'd jerked her knee up and ground his hips down into the space he'd created, pistoning hard and fast, desperate to see if he could feel her heat through their clothes if he just pushed a little more.

She whimpered. "Kyoya, I don't want—" whatever she meant to say next was overridden by her yelp when he rolled a nipple between thumb and forefinger and then pinched roughly.

_Don't want._ He slammed to a stop, teeth bared with the force of his grimace. Her fingers, surprisingly cool given the flush and light sheen of sweat on her face and chest, swept across his temple soothingly. Her honest eyes held compassion and something more heated.

"I don't want you to stop," she clarified. He stared.

"I'm sorry," he said anyway, once he'd collected enough of his humanity to speak. He'd lost control, he'd pushed her too hard, too fast. The nipple he'd pinched was red from the abuse.

_"I don't want you to stop,"_ she said again. Her hips lifted as much as the negligible space between them would allow.

His head dropped to her forehead. "Fuck. Fuck. Haruhi, I don't know if I can—"

She interrupted him. "I trust you." He nodded dumbly but didn't move, petrified he couldn't control the monster within demanding he take when he knew she was asking him to give. His muscles ached with the effort of keeping his reason in the driver's seat of his body. He nearly quivered with it.

Her smile was soft now, and she pressed his chest lightly, signaling him to move away. "It's okay. We can hold off. I can see you're uncomfortable, and I'm sorry I've made you feel that way."

Kyoya shook his head and buried his face in the crook of her neck, his weight carefully held on a forearm and his knees. With his free hand, he squeezed her side, wordlessly reassuring her. His palm began dragging softly up and down her abdomen, fingers tracing nonsense patterns that nevertheless spelled out his concern, his dedication to her comfort and pleasure. He kept his hips deliberately away from her own, and in spite of her enjoyment of his touch, part of her missed the heat, friction, and pressure of him pressing into her, the way his weight settled there had felt so oddly comforting despite his frenzy. She'd no sooner had the thought than his hand was there, molding itself to her most feminine curve.

"Okay?" She couldn't have said if he'd even made sound with the query, or if he'd just impressed the shape of it into her skin. She sighed her confirmation. She heard him rake in air, then he began to move against her, the heel of his palm rocking lightly over her clit, his fingers pressing against, manipulating the soft flesh surrounding her entrance, intimating penetration. The tenderness of his ministrations had her floating higher, higher, the heat within her expanding and building even as her world contracted to just him, then just his hand, and finally, she knew nothing but the sensations he coaxed out of her. Her climax swept through her veins with a wave of warmth. It sparkled over her skin. It hummed through her voice and into his mouth as he kissed her softly, collecting her sound and glow and warmth, returning them to her when she came back to herself.

She smiled against him, tugged him down as she turned and scooted to make room for him on the sofa, which he only managed when she wove their arms and legs together, knitting him to her. She chuckled soundlessly, sleepily.

"Hmm?" he intoned. A hand flopped a half-hearted pat to his back.

"You did it. Good job."

He snorted out a laugh, shifting to ease the ache of his trapped length. Some part of her must have noticed, because she murmured, "Owe you one. Next time. Just need to…" She drifted off and away into sleep. Kyoya shook his head, amused and amazed at her. Then he nestled her into him more securely. Sleep was far away for him, but he had plenty to keep his mind occupied.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

It was still dark when Kyoya woke to find Haruhi staring at him.

"What time is it?" he asked, dragging a hand over his face. He was stiff from their cramped position and thirsty.

She glanced up at the wall clock. "About 1:30. Sorry I let us sleep so long."

"I should let you go," Kyoya acknowledged, easing himself off the sofa so as not to dump himself on the floor. Haruhi sat up as well, tugging her shirt down and rolling her head each direction to get the kinks out.

"Let me just grab some water, then I'll call Tachibana to drive you to your dorm."

"Wait, Kyoya-senpai. Would you mind if I made some tea first?" When he nodded, she added, "Just don't feel like you need to stay up with me if you'd rather go back to sleep." She scratched at the back of her neck, which he recognized as something she did when she felt uncertain or awkward.

"It's no problem. I think I'll have a cup as well." She occupied herself putting the kettle on and choosing a decaffeinated tea that wouldn't disturb their sleep anymore than it already was. Then there was nothing to be done until the kettle boiled, and she had no idea what to say to him. He gazed at her steadily from where he leaned, half-perching on the counter next to the refrigerator with no apparent urge to fill the silence. She fidgeted with the teacups, noting with dismay one had damage to the glaze.

"Oh no," she bemoaned, holding the cup out to him. "One of the roses got cracked." She knew it was a valuable tea set, but even if it hadn't been, it was a shame to see something so beautiful damaged.

He shrugged as if it didn't bother him in the slightest. "My own fault. I was careless with it."

"Really? That seems unlike you."

Searching her gaze, he wondered if that was actually true. He certainly hadn't been terribly successful at being careful with her. The silence fell again and strained until the kettle whistled.

Turning to it and away from him, Haruhi admitted, "I'm worried I've made things strange between us. Maybe friends shouldn't experience these things with each other. Now that I think about it, I've never really heard of people being 'friends with benefits' and also being really good friends like we always have been. Have I been foolish?"

"Do you regret what's happened between us?"

She thought for a moment, pouring tea into their cups and turning to him to hand him one. She'd kept the cracked one for herself, he noticed, always trying to ensure his exacting standards were met, even at her own expense.

"No," she said finally. "I don't. I'm probably being silly, worrying about our friendship. After all, we've always been honest with each other, and long as that doesn't change, I'm sure our friendship will just grow along with our knowledge of each other." She beamed at him, and Kyoya hurriedly sipped at his still too hot tea.

"Honest in our way," he corrected, lying through his teeth, because he had definitely not always been honest with her. Even now, he hadn't corrected her when she'd suggested keeping their relationship practical as it became physical. He had spent years finessing her toward the conversation that he'd thought was going to be her confession to him.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Whatever you say, 'Shadow King.'" If only she knew. She did look very cute making those air quotes, though. The corners of his mouth lifted almost imperceptibly. Setting his tea down, he fetched his phone from the coffee table. He flipped it open, but before he could begin to dial, Haruhi spoke again.

"Ah, about Tachibana—you really don't have to call him."

"And let you walk home at this hour? You're deluding yourself."

"No, it's not that. No, I, uh…" Her cheeks pinked. "I brought some things. I mean, I thought it might get late again, but I didn't want to risk being late to class a second time, so…"

Kyoya thought his eyebrows might fly away with how high they had risen.

"Would it be okay if I stayed? On the futon, I mean."

"You never fail to surprise me, Haruhi. But yes, by all means, make yourself comfortable any time you'd like." She flushed darker. "Even if it's just a late night of studying," he added with amusement, knowing exactly where her mind had gone. Obviously embarrassed, she scurried away to pull out the futon.

This time, she was prepared for a morning Kyoya-senpai. When she brought him his coffee, she stayed until he drank some and set the cup aside. And when he moved to go back to sleep instead of getting up, she had her strategy ready to go.

"Kyoya-senpai, I think you're going to want to check the news. The stocks…" She trailed away, as if uncertain. Well, they were surely doing something. Probably. Kyoya already had his glasses on and his nose buried in his phone, presumably flicking from one news site to another to discover what she was implying. It didn't take long for him to discover her trick, but by then his sharp mind was already engaged with the day. He arched an eyebrow at her and growled, half-amused, half-feral.

"Clever, Haruhi. But don't think you won't pay for this later." Later would have to wait though, because he required the bathroom first. She noticed that he spent nearly as much time in the shower as Ranka and was glad she'd showered first. She'd likely not had time nor hot water if she'd waited.

Still, as the minutes ticked by, she decided to pivot her plans to accommodate his lazy bones. Instead of getting an omelet like the one she had lingered over, he would have to settle for a fried egg sandwich he could eat quickly. Making sure the pot of coffee-made with the fancy whole beans she had ground loudly while he still snored-was still hot, she hurried to get her own things together so she could catch the bus. Much as she appreciated the rides Kyoya-senpai always offered, she didn't want to take advantage of Tachibana too much.

When Kyoya finally emerged from the bathroom, towel wrapped snug around his waist, mind wrapped up in plots of revenge for her treacherous wake-up call, Haruhi had gone. Her ingrained habit of tidiness had left no trace of her beyond a still-warm breakfast sandwich, a half-full pot of steaming coffee (which he poured into his now-empty cup almost desperately), and a sheet of paper carelessly torn from a notebook.

Kyoya-senpai-I've got to catch the bus, and you're taking forever. I made you breakfast, so please put something in your stomach besides coffee.

Short, practical, and to the point. Not unlike the girl herself, who'd been too efficient to sign her name when the writer of the note would be obvious, but too polite to skip addressing him by name to start. Thoughtful enough to make him a breakfast that wouldn't make him late, but unwilling to "burden" him with needing a ride in exchange for staying long enough to wish him good morning or goodbye. He smiled a bland smile that would have stopped Haruhi's heart cold.

Later, he promised himself again.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

It was Wednesday, which meant Haruhi had her lighter class schedule. She nearly always arrived at Kyoya's apartment relatively early in the afternoon, taking advantage of his absence to take care of any mid-week chores that had come up. When Kyoya arrived at 7:13, the last load of laundry would be in the dryer, and she would be serving up dinner for them. After, they would settle into their tasks for the evening-homework for her, and homework, business, or information-gathering for him. Kyoya rarely scheduled dinner meetings or late-night international phone calls for Wednesdays.

At 7:13, he stepped into an empty apartment. No rumble of dryer, no simmering of stove. No Haruhi. A glance in the bathroom showed his towel from that morning's shower still on the floor where he'd dropped it, proof positive that she had not been to the apartment since she'd left it that morning.

He shrugged and pulled out his phone to order from a nice local sushi restaurant. They didn't technically deliver, but convincing them to make an exception for him had never been a problem. Haruhi would have been outraged to discover how much additional he paid for the convenience, but he liked the restaurant's food and promptness.

While he waited, he checked the notifications on his phone. He shot off a few quick emails, scheduled a meeting with one of his father's assistants to ensure his father's upcoming board meeting went smoothly, hummed at a stock he'd just purchased that was doing particularly well, and saw no text messages.

By 8:30, his sushi and patience had been consumed. Jaw clenched, he speed-dialed, and as the call was picked up, he injected a warm smile into his voice with surgical precision.

"Ranka-san, hello. I'm sorry to bother you at work. …Yes, she was offered internships at both law firms. Final grades haven't been posted just yet, but even with her lackluster political science course, she remains in the top 4% of her class." Kyoya paused while Ranka gushed over his little girl's accomplishments, with a bit of pouting that the news was coming from Kyoya and not the girl herself thrown in for good measure. Kyoya glanced at his watch.

"I fully agree, of course. Now, I know your next show begins in a few minutes and you'll want to freshen up your makeup before you go onstage, so I don't want to keep you. However, did Haruhi mention to you any plans for this evening? It's unlike her to miss work without informing me."

Never mind that he'd never given her a hard and fast schedule. In fact, she usually didn't come over more than three or four times a week. That had always been fine-he didn't mind her coming and going at her convenience as long as the work got done. But it had never before been at his inconvenience!

"Ah, thank you. I'm sure the outfit you picked for her is very cute. Thank you for letting me know. Good night, Ranka-san."

Some classmates had invited her out to celebrate the end of exams. Haruhi was at a party. He was pleased she had the opportunity to let loose with her peers, instead of spending the evening at home with him.

He should put the phone away and get in a few more hours of work. He was already dialing Tachibana. After a short conversation and ten minutes to change clothes, he stalked out to join his driver in the car.

The student hosting the soiree lived a good distance away from the city center, in a nice suburban neighborhood with identical large yards, identical large homes, and too many cul-de-sacs. It reeked of "new money" upper middle class. Tachibana pulled up in front of the house just as a delivery boy stepped out of his own vehicle with a large stack of pizzas. Kyoya paid him and sent him on his way before knocking. A pretty young woman Kyoya didn't care to know opened the door.

"Please excuse my intrusion. My name is Kyoya Ootori. I was told I could find Haruhi Fujioka here? I've brought these to apologize for the trouble." He lifted the pizzas with a grin.

The girl looked over her shoulder. "Hori? Somebody's here-he's got food!" Facing Kyoya again, she shrugged. "I dunno where he went to, but I don't see why you shouldn't come in." She relieved him of his cheesy burden and disappeared farther into the house.

As he slid his feet into a pair of the slippers in the basket by the door, Kyoya took the opportunity to glance around. The entry opened into a large living room full of comfortable-looking Western furniture and the type of paintings had been chosen to match the room rather than for their artistic value. No one sat on the overstuffed couches, though, so he followed a hall toward the back of the house.

The sound of music and laughter led him to an expansive porch, enclosed with glass on three sides for protection against foul weather. Tucked between potted palms were small groupings of chairs and sofas, and at one end a large table allowed for amost-outdoor dining.

It was by no means a wild party. The guests in attendance hardly broke a dozen, scattered about in pairs and threes with bottles of beer. Talk generally centered around the recent exams and plans for the upcoming long break. Two rather more boisterous people debated heatedly the implications of a recent decision by the high court.

Haruhi stood at the far end, apparently torn between trying to participate in the conversation the two people she stood with were engaging in, and trying to disappear into the palm behind her. She looked miserable. Kyoya's smile flashed from friendly to smirk and back again. He slid smoothly beside her before she'd even realized he was present, slipping an arm around to rest on her side.

She started. "Kyoya-se-"

"Good evening," he said over her surprise to her companions. "I'm Kyoya Ootori. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Haruhi's companions hurried to make their own introductions and then looked to her for explanation. This guy wasn't in any of their classes, and if he were a student of any program at their school, they surely would have heard his name around, as he made a fine impression with his exceptional looks and understated but clearly expensive clothing.

Haruhi fumbled to find a way to describe their relationship. Kyoya was her employer? Friend with benefits? Lover? "Um. Ootori-san in my-"

"_Very_ good friend," he interjected. She recognized his host smile, which she always found a little irritating in its artifice, but that wouldn't have been worrisome if not for the note of carefully reined-in anger she detected in the vein pulsing visibly in his temple. She had no idea what would have upset him, but the fact that he was here uninvited-had hunted her down even though she hadn't thought to mention the get-together to him-didn't bode well for her.

Still, in her brief silence, he had already charmed her classmates and was making easy conversation, sharing anecdotes of their high school days. She noted wryly that he didn't mention either her cross-dressing or the debt that had initially forced their companionship. More and more of the party's attendants drifted over, drawn by the laughter and captivated by his charm.

"…So, if you ever need a large favor from her, just promise her some fancy tuna, and she'll be putty in your hands." He winked in a way that had a few people glancing again at Haruhi, wondering just how good of friends they were.

"Oh yeah," the girl who had opened the door for Kyoya laughed. "She's definitely food-driven. She said she wasn't coming before, and then today Hori was listing all the snacks and things people were bringing, and suddenly she changed her mind."

Kyoya looked at her thoughtfully, cocking his head. "Is that so?" How could he get his glasses to glint even in a place he'd never been before, with such low lighting? Did he really analyze how to do that the instant he walked into any room?

"She is still right here, you know, guys," Haruhi reminded them all. The crowd broke up, still chuckling, into smaller groups again. Haruhi moved to pull away from Kyoya's grasp, but he just fit her more snugly into his side.

"What are you doing here, senpai?" she finally had a chance to ask.

"Why, I merely wanted to see you enjoying your vibrant social life."

She rolled her eyes. "I'd hardly call it 'vibrant.'"

"Hmm." He began ushering her toward the exit. She only had enough time to wave at her host before she was swept down the hall to collect their shoes and jackets. She didn't point out that it was rather rude of her to leave so abruptly. If Kyoya Ootori behaved rudely, he did it knowingly and didn't give a damn.

She held her silence until the car door closed behind them. Though Tachibana often kept the screen between him and his passengers down for any additional orders Kyoya might have for him, it was already sliding silently up. So it wasn't just her who had noticed Kyoya's foul mood.

"Seriously, though, senpai, what's up? I can tell something's bothering you?"

"Just wondering where you frolicked off to instead of showing up at work," he said mildly. "I seem to recall that parties were one of those experiences you wanted when we set up our arrangement." Not that he had taken her to any, yet. He had simply been focused on the other experiences she had asked for.

She frowned. "I hardly 'frolicked off' anywhere. And it's not like we had any specific plans for tonight. You've never held me to a particular work schedule before, so I don't see what the big deal is."

He didn't either, which was exactly the problem. He retained his stony silence, and Haruhi hurried to fill it.

"We had our last classes before the break today, so I figured I'd just swing by tomorrow to take care of things." Why was she trying to explain herself? She hadn't done anything wrong.

Kyoya was accustomed to knowing what to say and what to do to achieve his goals. The thing was, he wasn't even certain what his goal was right now, just that had never missed a Wednesday night without letting him know beforehand. He huffed.

"Ah," Haruhi said. She didn't say "I get it now. You were just unhappy I wasn't spending the evening with you," because it would have just embarrassed him more. Now that she thought about it, he very rarely engaged in socializing just for fun-there was always business, or at the very least networking, involved. She wondered if he was a little jealous of her freedom in that regard. She squeezed his hand. "Just text me next time, okay? I didn't really want to rehash all of my exams with them anyway, but it was rude to leave out of the blue like that. I didn't even get to have any pizza."

She felt him relax as he laughed. "I'll order you another when we get home."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

It took some convincing to get Kyoya to agree to bring her to her dorm and not his apartment; he'd even tried threatening to withhold the promised pizza to get his way. Haruhi just rolled her eyes and informed him, "That isn't going to work, senpai. You need to remember, my dorm room is where I live. I can't hang out at your place all the time."

She blushed when Kyoya pointed out they'd been doing rather more than hanging out as of late.

They were halfway up the second flight of stairs in her dorm when she sighed. "Look, I appreciate the ride, but you really don't have to follow me up to my room, you know."

"As long as I'm here, I may as well discover what a commoner's dorm looks like. It will be educational."

"Go home already!" Her complaint was half-hearted at best, all she could muster when she knew he'd made up his mind.

It was simple to tell which half of the small room was Haruhi's. It was scrupulously tidy, with minimal decoration. A photo of her mother on the desk was the only personal item in sight. The other half was cluttered with throw pillows tossed haphazardly from the bed, clothing tossed randomly from the closet, and virtually no wall space visible beneath posters of idols. Also, the roommate herself was present, as perfectly put together as her space was not, and staring wide-eyed at Haruhi and her companion. Haruhi avoided the questions in that gaze by hanging up her coat and placing her purse neatly inside her miniscule closet. She sighed and resigned herself to more awkward introductions.

"Honoka, this is Kyoya Ootori. I work for him, and he is ostensibly my friend. I have no idea why he followed me home."

"Such a pleasure," Kyoya intoned. "I've heard so much about you." Not from Haruhi, but never mind that.

"Oh, uh, yeah. It's nice to meet you, too. I'm Honoka Ruiko." She looked significantly at Haruhi, who just shrugged. "I'm sorry to run off right away, but I, uh, promised I'd call my boyfriend?" It was a poorly executed lie, but it allowed Honoka escape from whatever weird thing was going on here. This guy's predatory vibe was a way bigger warning than any scrunchie on a door handle could manage.

"You totally scared her off," Haruhi admonished when her roommate fled.

"I was nothing but polite."

"You know exactly what I mean, senpai."

"It could have been avoided if we'd gone to my apartment."

Haruhi groaned. "I don't know why _we_ had to go anywhere together!"

He smirked at her and locked the door. "You really have no clue? None at all?" He stalked toward her, sliding off his jacket and draping it over her desk chair. Haruhi back away all of one step before she realized there was not much space to go unless she wanted to end up boxed in by her bed.

She may have decided to hold her ground, but Kyoya had other plans in mind. He closed the distance between them slowly, with all the feral grace of a tiger. He was still perfectly deliberate, but his coolness had disappeared. She could feel his heat even before he gripped her shoulders, driving her backwards until her calves hit the bed and, overbalanced, she sat hard. Still he pressed forward, so her knees parted as he invaded her space. He fell to his own between them.

And then, abruptly, his momentum stilled, and he simply held her. Haruhi's arms had folded around him initially on instinct, but as he nuzzled, trying desperately to close the nonexistent space between them, she tightened her embrace.

"It's okay," she murmured. "Tell me what's wrong."

Kyoya pulled in shuddering breath after shuddering breath, until she thought he wouldn't answer. Finally, he spoke, his forehead still pressed tightly into the crook of her neck and shoulder. "I lose control whenever I'm with you. I was so angry tonight. I scared your roommate, and it made me _glad_. I wanted to scare you too. Jesus, no, I wanted to _punish_ you, and you didn't even do anything wrong."

Shockingly, rather than pushing him away in disgust, she chuckled softly. "I have the feeling you would have made me enjoy any 'punishment' you had to dish out."

So he pushed himself away instead, gripping her shoulders tightly to force her gaze to meet his. "I am not _nice_, Haruhi. You should be exploring your sexuality with someone who will take you on dates, give you flowers, be decent to you. Not take, take, take." His voice still blazed with anger, even if it was now more obviously self-directed.

"You are, too, nice. You just hide it from yourself really well. And I'm pretty sure you were the one give, give, giving the other night at your apartment. So you lose control sometimes. So what? You are still the most controlled person I've ever met. No one needs to rein themselves in that tightly all the time." She tugged him back to her so his head was tucked snugly under her chin and rubbed soothing circles on his back. "Anyway, I kind of like it that I'm the one who cracks that composure of yours. To have the Shadow King acting in any way that isn't perfectly disciplined because of me… it's actually really freaking sexy."

He felt her chest rumble with a short half-chuckle. "Who'd have ever thought I'd have to reassure _you_ that you're sexy? I mean, you have to notice the way women look at you. Plenty of men, too, for that matter. You could have your pick of partners."

"Hmm. There is very little money can't buy," he said by way of acknowledgement.

Haruhi rolled her eyes. "It's not just your money, or your name, you dope. Don't be dumb. Come on."

She was tugging at him again, this time maneuvering him to lie down as she scooted to stretch out next to him. Her bed was so narrow, they were nearly nose-to-nose. Silent, they looked at each other. With an arm draped across his neck, her fingers gently massaged his scalp until his jaw unclenched, his breaths slowed and deepened, and finally, he drifted to sleep. Carefully, unwilling to disturb him, Haruhi leaned forward and kissed his forehead, the only outlet she allowed for her full heart.

As always, Kyoya woke in stages. First came sounds: birdsong from outside and student chatter from the hall. Next he became aware of the light beyond his closed eyelids. He smelled coffee and hoped it was for him. And finally, he became aware of Haruhi, running her fingers casually up and down his chest like it was no big deal.

He popped one suspicious eye open. She was staring at him. "Whaddaya want?" he groaned.

She smiled and pinched him lightly. "Nothing. I was just watching you wake up. It takes a long time." She'd known it, but she'd never seen it up close before.

"I've been up a while," she continued. "I ran to the cafeteria and got some coffee and pastries. It's closed by now, so I hope that will do for breakfast for you."

Kyoya grunted. He sat up, rubbing his face and looking for his glasses. Haruhi reached across him and grabbed them for him before he'd spotted them in their unfamiliar place on her desk.

"You fell asleep in them," she reported. "You're such a heavy sleeper, I got them off without an issue, and your shoes too." She gestured to where they sat, neatly aligned next to her own by the door.

It was an oddly intimate sight. Instead of dwelling on it, Kyoya nabbed one of the two paper coffee cups and downed half of the only still barely warm brew. Caffeine successfully ingested, he flopped back onto the bed to wait for it to take effect. A solid warmth settled at his side-Haruhi had snuggled up to him. Her arm snaked across him, low on his belly, wakeful fingers fidgeting next to his navel. He tried ignoring the tickling sensation-for all of ten seconds.

"Haruhi. I'm _sleeping_."

She snorted at him. "No, you're not."

"Well, I want to be sleeping," he corrected.

She propped herself up onto her elbow and smirked down at him. "Are you sure?"

Her fingers had ceased their aimless fidgeting and were now sweeping up his side only to meander their way back down across his abdomen. His muscles quivered under her touch, but Kyoya's eyes remained closed behind glasses. She noticed the scant millimeter of smile he was attempting to hide, though.

His shirt, untucked from sleep, had ridden slightly up, revealing a simple white tee beneath the button-down. Haruhi traced the triangle of fine white cotton below the bottom button. Through the single layer, he could feel the heat of her hand, the press of each individual finger, the curl of one beneath the hem of his undershirt, and then, skin on skin. She'd only uncovered a few inches, drawing tiny circles there, but the reverberations swept through his whole body. He felt her shift, and her lips pressed to that spot, which he suddenly realized was near his hip and just above his pants. It was morning, and just like every morning-

"Sorry," he muttered. "It's just a thing that happens. You don't have to…" He trailed off, not knowing what to say.

Haruhi smiled against him and looked up. His eyes were tightly shut, his lips pressed into a thin line, and the most adorable blush had spread across his cheeks. She hadn't even known he could feel embarrassed. Utterly charmed, she abandoned the small patch of skin to press her lips to his. Her hand, however, kept being drawn to the spot, mapping and remapping until her explorations had exposed a good portion of his belly and she was able to slide her hand beneath the tee.

She'd never touched him-anyone-like this. His height and slimness belied his strength. She delighted in defining each abdominal muscle in turn and skating down the narrow channels between them. She needed to see and pushed herself up onto one hip. His eyes flew open in surprise when she shoved the shirts up as high as she could manage. It wasn't enough-both fitted quite close to his body and were pinned beneath his back.

"Off," she commanded. He sat up obediently and began working on the buttons. Haruhi was struggling to keep her balance, propped high on one hand, and her leg was starting to fall asleep, so while she started on the buttons from the bottom up, she moved to kneel before him with one of his legs between hers so she could face him directly. He leaned back to remove his shirt, and Haruhi was already drawing his tee up, ready to yank it over his head the instant his arms were free. He had clenched his legs to retain his balance during the awkward motions, and his thigh muscle did something embarrassing and wonderful to her. Her eyes flew to his, or would have if she hadn't had his tee-shirt half off of him and covering his face. It disappeared, and a hand on his shoulder pushed him back to the bed when he would have leaned forward to kiss her.

"My turn," she warned. His nostrils flared, and she could imagine continuing to do as he was told was starting to grate on him. It made no difference to her, though, because he was there, shirtless before her, and she had never allowed herself to look at him like this before.

Kyoya watched as her eyes consumed him, from the hollow of throat, across chest, down belly, lower… Shyness and a hint of panic washed over her. She looked at him helplessly.

"I, uh, don't really know what to do," she admitted.

"Whatever you would like. Are you nervous?" He sat up to talk to her face to face.

She nodded. Here eyes were closed and she was worrying her lip, and it made Kyoya desperate to kiss her. Still, as irritating as it was, she seemed to want to take the lead, and he would allow it. This time.

"You look like you have a question," he prompted.

If possible, she looked more miserable. "It's just… Well, the videos… Either you don't see it at all, or it seems like they purposely get it all over…" She faltered and fell silent.

"I have literally no idea what you are talking about, Haruhi."

She dropped her face into her hands and groaned. She waved vaguely at his body, nearly glowing red. Kyoya stared at her, half surprised that the always forthright Haruhi couldn't say what was on her mind, half amused at her mortification.

"The… mess," she finally croaked, waving again in the direction of his hips.

He suddenly realized what she so ineptly was trying to ask and had to stifle a laugh. "Are you concerned about ejaculation?" he asked, trying to keep his voice serious, clinical if he was able. She squeaked, and he thought he might implode from her naivete.

"Hmm. If the videos you mentioned were porn, they're likely not good examples of what sex is like when it's non-performative. It doesn't have to be that messy-condoms or tissues or even just aim can-"

"Okay, okay, I get it! _Please_ shut up now," she begged. "Or just kill me."

A smug smile tipped his lips up. "You know, it's actually quite… intriguing, the idea of you watching those kinds of videos." The ache in his pants was proof enough of that. "Tell me, was it for fun or for research?"

"There is no way I am answering that, senpai." Her voice was flat and uncompromising. Any response would be terrible.

"I'll just make my own assumptions, then," he assured her deviously. Hooking a finger under her chin, he pulled her forward for a kiss, first soothing her frayed nerves and then lighting a fire in them. Her hands moved to cup his face, and he relished in her nearness but didn't dare touch her for fear of frightening her further. Long, languid moments passed. Her fierce blush had dissipated to a lovely glow, and finally, finally, she pulled her lips from his only to track them across his jaw and down his neck. She experimented with shy nibbles that made him voracious for her. Still he held himself back, merely stroking her back as she tasted her way across his collar bones. Her hand settled momentarily on his thigh. After fluttering her fingers nervously once, twice, she found her voice.

"Can I…?"

"Anything," he promised.

Still, it took her a bit to screw up her courage. She started easy, sliding her hand toward his knee. On the way back up, she dared to stretch her thumb nearer the inside of his thigh. A soft breath indicated his approval and, encouraged, her hand strayed nearer her goal. A few more slow passes convinced Kyoya she was torturing him. Her other hand had begun brushing across the top of his pants, from one hip to the other, occasionally pausing as her fingers tripped over the fly. He dropped his head onto her shoulder and prayed for salvation.

He could have sobbed when she abandoned his thigh. Her fingers had been so tantalizingly close. But now she was tugging at the top button of his pants, and that was… more than okay. Hopeful, even. Her fingers were clumsy, but he couldn't quite discern if that was because she was trembling or he was. Ever determined, Haruhi managed four of the five buttons and decided that was good enough. Tentatively, she brushed the backs of her fingers over the soft gray cotton beneath and was pleased to hear him hiss. Unsure but curious, she turned her hand to let the pads of her fingers do the exploring.

Even through his underwear, she could feel the heat of him. He was firm, as she'd expected, but there was a slight give to the head that she thought gave a slight air of delicacy.

She would never, ever admit to him that she thought his penis was at all delicate. He would gleefully murder her if he knew.

She stroked as far as she was able but didn't have a lot of room. As she reached under the inflexible fabric of his fly, he lifted his hips, and together they pushed the offending garment to his calves where he kicked free of it entirely.

He watched her take in the sight of him in nothing but his boxer briefs. Without the constricting pants, his erection tented the cotton higher than before, and her ministrations had created a small damp spot. Brow furrowed in concentration, she cupped him as fully as her small hand would accord. He resisted the urge to let his eyes drift close in bliss; he wanted to sear this memory of her in his mind forever.

She started to move. First with the flat of her palm, then curling her fingers around him. The cotton, soft as it was, bunched oddly. Without thinking, she slipped beneath the elastic band to better appreciate the gentle topography of him. He gasped and imprisoned her wrist, holding her still.

"If you… This will be over quickly if you continue as you are," he panted. She kissed him hard and freed him completely, engulfing him in both her hands. Kyoya strangled out a moan. Her hands were so soft and cool, and this was _Haruhi_ touching him, Haruhi who set about compensating for her inexperience with close attention to his responses, repeating motions that made him sigh and interspersing those with ones that made him buck. She rolled her palm over his head and he surged into the abyss, whispering her name over and over. Mind empty and body spent, he fell back into the bed.

Dumbstruck, he floated on a post-orgasmic high until she elbowed him in the stomach, giggling absurdly.

"Kyoya! I need a tissue!"

He peeled an eye open to see her cupping sticky hands.

"All of the things you mentioned, the tissue, the aim… I forgot all that, and then it was too late and I sort of panicked, and…" She dissolved into laughter. "Help me out here, or it's going to drip all over you!"

He hurriedly grabbed the box of tissues from her desk, grateful her desk was small and his arms were long. He set it on his belly and rolled his eyes at her. "Here you go, you ludicrously meticulous woman. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going back to my afterglow." She snickered as she took a few tissues and he settled back, arms crossed over his chest and brow lowered in consternation.

"You know, senpai, your grumpy act would be a lot more convincing if you weren't smiling quite so wide." Hands mostly dry, she settled beside him once more. Curling his arm around her shoulders, he dragged her closer, and she might have imagined it, but a soft disturbance of her hair seemed to be evidence of a kiss.


End file.
